merryeccentricities (
merryeccentricities) wrote in
ways_infirmary2016-01-14 11:09 am
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Check out time
Joly looks over the last few sets of readings and nods, satisfied. "You seem to be recovering well, Monsieur. If you'll promise to follow a few instructions and trust yourself to your daughter's care, I think you can move back to your own rooms today."
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He kisses her, and grasps Marius's arm by way of greeting.
'Good morning, my children. Ah, what a sight you are for an old man.'
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He says it lightly, mostly teasing, but...really, though. Let your family take care of you, Valjean.
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'I am sure there is no need to bother you further, monsieur. I will rest if that is the instruction, you need not waste further time.'
He is not arguing! Really! It is just that he has Cosette, and surely anyone can see that is all the medicine he needs.
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To Joly, "My father has rooms here, and so do we. We'll be here as long as necessary to be quite certain he's on the mend."
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'Children, you need not stay. You have your lives to live - come and see me a little, and I will remain until I am well, you need not give up the comforts of home.'
Really, all he needs is to know she will come back, and that he might see her.
'I promise I will worry about nothing.'
This is a lie, because there are still the things she says she knows. But he does not want to think of them yet, and if she does not broach it then he will not.
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She won't listen to him say such things, as if none of this had happened, as if he hasn't heard a word she's said at all. But she won't argue with him now, not here in front of kind M. Joly. It's not right to have a family disagreement in a public place, it's not fair to anyone, but if she tries to talk to her father about this at all she won't keep her composure.
So instead, she says earnestly, "Certainly we'll stay and look after him. Visit a little! We shall come ever so often. My father's rooms are upstairs. Do you think he's strong enough to move to them? I'm sure it's more comfortable, but it's whatever you think best, monsieur."
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Joly is officially professionally totally unaware of any unspoken family discussion happening, while at the same time having to pay close attention to the reactions his patient has to the whole thing. It's a tricky balance.
But Mme.Pontmercy's questions are easy to answer. "If you'll be looking after him, I'm quite sure it's safe for him to take rooms here. I've made you a list of medicines, some instructions for care, here, if you want to look over them?" He hands over a neatly printed little pamhlet, just a few pages long. Mme. Pontmercy can read, he knows that. "And do ask any questions you have, now or later, if you find there's anything I've neglected to explain properly."
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It is not her fault. It is his. He does not know what she has learned, or how, and so cannot decide how to react to the worry. But he knows she is not running away from him, and Marius is allowing her presence, and that is all he really needs. There is pleasure too, in the way she commandeers his recovery, just as she did when he was taken with fever after he burned his arm in the Gorbeau house. That was a happy month of being at her mercy, and perhaps this will be a little like that again.
'If it is what you want, children,' he says quietly, and bows his head a little in acquiescence to the doctor's instructions.
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He moves forward to offer Valjean his arm (or his shoulder, if Valjean's weakness demands it) to help him up and out of the bed.
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While the men help her father up, to whatever extent help is needed, she reads over the little pamphlet quickly. It seems comprehensible; she doesn't understand the reasons for everything, but it's all explained very clearly, even the words she doesn't know. "Thank you, M. Joly. We can do this, easily. It's all perfectly clear."
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It really is a very light, simple looking chair; nothing at all like the various awkward contraptions he'd seen sometimes in his own year.
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He leans as little as he can on Marius's shoulder, knowing that it was injured and not wanting to pressure it.
'Thank you,' he says, to all of them. It seems so inadequate, but he does not know what else will do.
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They're comfortable rooms, and she's cajoled her father into a few nicer touches here or there. But she's already thinking, as she unlocks the door, of little improvements to make for her father's comfort.
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He is suddenly aware that it is just the three of them, and if he is well enough to be released from the doctor's supervision, there are probably other things he cannot avoid. It is what it is; he pulls himself up out of the wheelchair and eases his way onto a normal seat without looking at either of them.
'We could send a rat for coffee or tea, if one may be found in the hall,' he ventures after a moment.
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